About Face
by The Very Last Valkyrie
Summary: A short history of desperation and devotion.


_**Bloc Party makes me think of Gossip Girl, and Kele sings for Bloc Party, and I write for Gossip Girl, so...  
Enjoy.**_

* * *

**About Face**

'_A song of desperation, but I'm not letting go  
I'll be with you in the hour, I'll be with you  
They said we were too young to keep our love so strong  
If you say you want devotion, look no further_.'  
– Turn It Around, Sub Focus feat. Kele.

Everyone has two faces: one made of skin, one made of expression. Which do you trust? Chuck has learned better than to trust either. He sees both easily, can tell them apart, can tell what's true and what's not, but couldn't tell himself which to bet on. He has more than two faces, he has them all: he owns every emotion that can be emoted, kept in the glass-fronted cabinet that takes the place of his heart. He still couldn't tell himself which to bet on.

The problem is that he can see both far too easily when they're hers (Blair's), _hers_ (_Blair_'_s_), because they're hers (he avoided thinking her name all summer, and he is not about to start now). Which do you want? He sees the face, skin, shocked as she steps off the bus and onto the Hamptons, the second of shock before the face, expression, goes down over her eyes. He can see her flinching beneath, and dying to win, and dying to be anywhere but there.

The flowers were desperate, after all.

In vain, after all.

**.**

The flowers will be desperate, after all.

In vain, after all, but he hasn't bought them yet.

Chuck is lying in the dark, half-cocked, the pain stretching his skin and the alcohol distorting his expression trying both to fit over his bones. There's no point even trying to sleep, even lying in the dark, half-cocked, nothing and no one better to do. The night makes him think of his own mortality, of being splattered on the sidewalk.

The chatter of a keyboard is muted but audible.

The night makes him think of something and someone better to do. In her sheer blouse, with her hair nut brown and honey blonde and neither, there is only one face. There is only focus, and kindness when she sees him, the kind of kindness he sees and loves and hates. He sees and loves and hates her too, and there it is.

"You're catching up on schoolwork."

"No, I'm watching badly lit porn."

"You haven't been going to class."

Her face, expression makes it seem like nothing. "Considering the amount of extracurriculars I do, I'm owed some personal time."

"You haven't been sleeping."

"I'll sleep when you sleep."

"I haven't been sleeping."

Her face, skin makes it seem like nothing. "Exactly."

His father died and he nearly died too, splattered on the sidewalk, but there she was. Her care, expression hid her love, skin, masked the fact that devotion is sitting in his suite, translating Latin at three AM. He hurts and he drinks and couldn't tell himself which to bet on, but her focus is a lie and her kindness is the truth, so he kind of focuses on that.

**.**

The problem is that touching her is like touching God(dess).

The problem is that seeing her face, expression fall like a petal, seeing her bare skin shining on the pavement in front of the Plaza, is probably more than he can bear. It's probably more than he'll ever be able to bear, the cocktail of emotions, the desperation, the devotion, the peonies and macarons and stockings in his hand. His face, expression falls more like a tree struck by lightning. It smashes the glass-fronted cabinet, whatever the consequences for his heart.

Chuck can tell what's true and what's not, and Blair (her) is true. _Blair_ (_her_) is a syllogism: she is this, and this is true, so she is true (he thought about her name everywhere he went, and he's about to start something now). These flowers are in vain, after all. They're unnecessary, after all. The things he emotes and not the things he sees are what matters, not the two faces: one made of skin, one made of expression. The things that are true are what matters.

To love like this is desperate, after all.

Desperate and devoted, after all.

Desperate, devoted and true.

_Fin._


End file.
